Scene: The Gates of Hell
Satan: [Clapping his clawed hands together] "Ah, welcome, welcome! We've been expecting you, Mr. Leafblower. Or may I call you... the Patron Saint of Sunday Morning Rage?"
Inventor: [Adjusting his tie nervously] "I don’t understand. I revolutionised garden maintenance! I—"
Satan: [Cutting him off, grinning wickedly] "Oh, you revolutionised something, all right. Follow me. We’ve prepared a special corner of hell just for you."
Scene: The Eternal Leafblower Inferno
Satan leads the inventor to a smoky, endless suburban street. The air is filled with the deafening roar of hundreds of leafblowers. The inventor winces as leaves swirl aimlessly, carried by the ceaseless chaos.
Inventor: [Covering his ears] "What… what is this madness?!"
Satan: [Smirking] "This, my dear genius, is your magnum opus in full swing! Every resident here owns an industrial-grade leafblower, and they’re all set to max power. Observe the artistry: no leaf ever settles; they just blow from one driveway to another in an eternal, pointless cycle."
Inventor: [Horrified] "But surely there’s a designated leaf-collection area?"
Satan: [Cackling] "Oh, you poor soul. No. The leaves never gather. They simply redistribute, spreading misery and noise equally among all. Efficiency, no? You’d appreciate that."
Punishment, Leafblower Style
Suddenly, a demon appears, wielding a golden leafblower.
Demon: [Bellowing] "This one’s for you, Chief. Custom-made. Powered by the eternal screams of the damned."
Inventor: "Surely, I’m not expected to—"
Satan: [Interrupting] "Blow, my dear inventor, blow! But here’s the twist: your leafblower only works at ear-splitting volume—and the leaves blow straight back into your face. No progress. Forever."
The inventor reluctantly turns it on. It sputters, howls, and immediately sends a whirlwind of soggy leaves and dirt into his mouth. He gags and sputters.
Inventor: [Choking] "I… I didn’t mean for it to be like this!"
Satan: "Oh, but you did! You unleashed this cacophony upon the mortal realm, ignoring the sacred silence of Sunday mornings. And now, dear genius, you’ll experience it personally, on repeat, forever!"
Surprise Guests
Just as the inventor begins to despair, a chorus of angry suburbanites marches in, wielding frying pans and alarm clocks.
Suburbanite 1: "You woke us up at 7 a.m. every weekend for years! Payback time!"
Suburbanite 2: "Enjoy the sound of your own invention while we hit you with these symbols of domestic bliss you've destroyed!"
They begin banging the frying pans in sync with the leafblower’s roar.
Final Twist
As the inventor’s torment reaches its crescendo, Satan leans in close.
Satan: [Whispering] "But wait—there’s more. On public holidays, the decibel levels double. And guess what? You’re the one they all blame. Isn’t that poetic justice?"
The inventor tries to protest, but his cries are drowned out by the hellish symphony of leafblowers, pans, and screeching leaves. Satan strolls away, whistling cheerfully.
Satan: [To himself] "Another day, another soul perfectly tormented. I do love my job."
